


The Forgotten, The Exalted, The Child

by Momma



Series: Idea Compilations [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: EXTREMELY SLOW UPDATES, I'm stressed a lot, Momma Strife is Boss, Multi, Other, WIP, cloud is a precious cinnamon bun filled with determination, everyone else is just rolling with it because Momma Strife really is the authority the world needs, i'm an adult, my muses end to go walkabout when I'm stressed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 13:31:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momma/pseuds/Momma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a life time redone, perhaps, and a life time forged and forgotten, maybe. And, really, it should be time to make something of this strange future-past-present thing happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Please

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how long it has been since I played FF VII, but it has been a while. And, no, I haven't played the other games though I had seen Advent Children since I own the DVD. So, if anyone wants to be a lovely dear sweet darling and help me, I would be so happy and desperate. 
> 
> INSPIRATION  
>  _DOGS of War_ written by Tzieg on AO3  
>  _MS Paint Adventures_ written and drawn by Andrew Hussie   
> _Katekyo Hitman Reborn_

“What I have shown you is reality. What you remember, that is the illusion.” - Sephiroth

The world was dead around him, the ground dry, the water beds worse, trees shriveled with rigor mortis, bones of beasts piled high in mounds of natural dependency upon life being sustained by others' flesh. Gaea was dieing. Was all but a breath from final death. To live so long that nothing was left but him? It was horrifying. 

But he could never forget them. Never forget the fights, the struggles, the forever and ever in a single moment of suspended animation. 

And Gaea, the _Mother of All_ was desperately giving him the knowledge of something far too dangerous. Even centuries after conflict, she was worried for her children. The babes that walked upon her skin and lived and died and just were. 

So, his new and last task this time around. 

_'I cannot save myself, for a mother gives unto her children until nothing is left. I have, but they still are gone far too soon. Resurrect the world in old ways and you shall be given the entirety of my self.'_

Aerith had been paraphrasing a bit since Gaea could not actually speak. Being deeply connected to the planet, she was able to speak with the words that the world herself could not form. Being dead and in the Life Stream helped out even more. 

"Seriously?" 

Oh course, he asked this sarcastically, alone and embittered by the nothingness that finally wore him down from the hopeful if quiet romantic into a jaded man with a heart not unlike the trees of the now desolate world. Then Aerith gave him That Look, dragged Zack into it, and said one word.

_'Please?'_

He was doomed from the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good gravy, you can tell when my classes start back up! 0.0 I've fallen off the planet!

The first time he woke, his head was swimming, people were crying, and Mako was so thick in the air, he couldn't pick out what time he landed in. 

Oh, that was an odd sensation...wondering what _time_. A strange thing was happening to his face, involuntary and weird and happy of all things. Just as he was figuring it out - _he was smiling; how long since he actually had done that_ \- black swam inside his head and smothered his thoughts. 

The next time was a little more intelligible and he allowed the outside to filter in. Dark as it was, he shouldn't have been able to see anything. But...his eyes glowed. Did that mean he was at Hojo's mercy again? Would he loose _more_ memory? That didn't seem right. Gaea was the Mother, she wouldn't do that to him again would she? 

"...he was drowning in a _Mako POOL_ , Mayor _Lockhart_. I have a right to anything I need to help my son!"

Ooooooh... He remembered _that_ voice AND that tone. Someone had already done something stupid...

"But Miss Stri-"

"That is MRS. Strife to you!"

"I'm sorry! I cannot help anymore!"

"Cannot or _will not_!? Just because my husband is _gone_ , Mr. Lockhart, does not mean I am mentally feeble or unable! If you are going to _LIE_ -"

"I am doing so such thing-" 

"-then try and be more convincing and make sure the village is not around to hear the so called _proclamation_ from's a _Fool's MOUTH_!"

"Now _see here_ -"

"...Mom?"

Was that really his voice? Was he suddenly so young? Had nothing actually happened _at all_ yet? 

SOLDIER, immortal warrior, ULTIMA, Death Bringer...It didn't matter. You were home. You were _home_...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fINALS next week. I'm tried, in need of chocolate, and sleep deprived. 
> 
> So, in all my wisdom, I decided to write something COMPLETELY unrelated to my classes.

**Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive. – Josephine Hart**

 

Cloud had to wonder if being seven messed with his emotional control. Even now, instead of tracking down Sephiroth, he was clinging to his mother's dress and going out of his way to help the woman he had failed so terribly. And, really, how had he not seen then how tired and worn she was, no matter the beauty of her. And she was beautiful. The kind that most women aspired for but never achieved. Hair darker than his own, long sheets of living silk that tumbled over her shoulder. He wondered vaguely when she finally cut it in his previous life, but for now just enjoyed running his tiny fingers of this tiny and fragile body through her hair.

 

So much tangibility to her _life_... It was overwhelming.

 

Still, he had to make a decision. Sephiroth was around 15 plus years his senior. Currently, that would put his at 22 years or so. Already being touted for being the best military advantage, then. well, he and Angeal and someone else that apparently was a red leather wearing, poem spewing pretty boy. Whatever his name was, he was sure to find out soon enough. Still, leaving his mother was going to be so much _harder_ than he had thought. He had something of a detatchment to her previous life, her previous fate because he had been through too much. But now... Now, he was able to learn about her all over again and it was heart wrenching and emotinally scaring.

 

Could he _leave_? Again?

 

He would have to.

 

And it was going to _hurt_. Hurt worse than Aerith dying, than watching Nibelheim burn, than seeing Zack die for him. He wasn't sure why, but he was crying at the thought alone. When the time came, he believed enough of himself to leave, but never more than that he would rather die than hurt this wonderful, loving woman again.

 

Scrubbing his face, he sniffled and set his shoulders. The good of All before the One.


	4. Chapter 4

Sitting around the fire pit dug for the night, the small blond wondered how his mother had done it. That she was sitting and tutting over the dark-haired apparition that was Vincent Valentine was mind boggling. That she was able to guilt the man into actually doing what Cloud needed of him was terrifying. Horrifyingly so.

That she was out here in the wilds and without ever asking why was mystifying.

Lets go back a few hours.

Cloud had been packing what he would need into a duffel almost taller than he was. Crawling around under his bed for the hunting knife and long blade he had liberated from Mayor Lockhart's vast and untouched collection of weapons - it was a pity that they were going to waste in his house, stacked forgotten on a wall - his mother had stood at the door, silent and observing for who knows how long when he turned to leave. The child had nearly had a heart attack, grabbing his chest as his young heart beat a tattoo of fear against his ribs hard enough it jarred and hurt both. "MOM!"

The young Mrs. Strife looked at her handsome son, studying him and appraising him all the way down to his soul. Cloud shifted, his eyes darting down to the floor as guilt started taking chunks out of his resolve. Until he saw her own bag, sitting full to overflowing at her feet, her good hiking boots on, her skirts fuller with layers that meant she had less to pack. A wide strap hinted at another bag over her shoulder, possibly full of food. He hoped it was food.

"Come, son. Lead me on," she had teased, voice soft and willing even if she didn't quite understand.

And when he HAD led on straight to the mansion - only two or three monsters at all and how strange was that - she hadn't even hesitated. At the sight of the coffin, she had blinked, worried, even as he had pushed it open to peer down at the face of one of his best friends from a once-upon-a-time-that-had-never-happened with exasperated fondness.

"Vincent. Time to wake up. We have business to deal with. Like your own son."

His mother put her hand on his shoulder, probably to console him. At least, until those red, red eyes had slitted open, a small frown tipping the corners of his mouth down. Then she had gasped, only a little, before peering closer, leaning over the casket. Then her brow puckered along with her lips.

"He's the father of that young soldier boy, isn't he?"

And Cloud had never been so floored or thrilled as he had been then that his mother was so intelligent and good at putting all the pieces together without even a full picture. And down right worried that she would see too much of something that she really shouldn't. But, well, this was his _mom_...

"Yeah..." 

  
And that was all that need be said. His mother had leaned over the casket, head down to whisper furiously in the "dead" man's ear, the voice lowly furious and encouraging and authoritive in turns. Now she was making him eat some jerky and sip water while Cloud nibbled on his own meat and still soft hardtack. This journey was going to be far different from what he thought. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mom Strife is BAMF. 
> 
> Just sayin'.

Cloud was feeling very much like he was suffering from whiplash.

After arriving in Wutai, at the gates of the ShinRa base no less, his mother had requested to see the SOLDIER 1st Class on duty. Cloud was kind of glad they were as far as he could get them from Hojo (the name alone made his skin crawl and his breath quicken), but he was horrified that his mother would willingly walk into a war zone. Looking at the tall red-haired man-teen dressed in red leathers and holding a sword at his side, the small blond was ready to smack someone in a lab coat.

"You're degrading!" he snapped, walking non impressively over to the young man, grabbing his hand and peeling off a glove to poke at his skin. "When was your last Mako injection? Because this? _This_ is easy to fix, damn it, _why has no one done it_?!"

There was a long frozen silence that eventually got through his fury and to his sense. He hunched as he realized people were _staring_ staring, that kind that made skin prickle with awareness. Releasing the hand and glove, he stepped back and away, blinking soft blue eyes while biting his lip. His Mom was going to _ask things_ now and he wouldn't be able to explain, not really and she was going to _hate him_ -

"Cloud? Sweetheart, come on, _BREATHE_ , okay?"

His Mom was crouched in front of him, holding his shoulder and rubbing his face and hair in soothing circles that were in time to her heart beat, he could tell because he had grabbed her wrist in both of his hands and was counting the thumps against his palm. He knew the others were looking away, the feeling of being looked at gone and he sobbed gently. Oh, Gaea, he had messed up already and how was he going to save everyone if he fucked up so easily?

Warm arms wrapped around his shoulders, tugging him into a soft embrace of comfort and smells of home and love and gentleness.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her neck, holding tight to her. "I so sorry."

There was a kiss on his hair, his cheek, forehead, ear. "Oh, baby. Shush, now."

In the end, they were admitted in if for no other reason than Genesis ushering them in and to his tent. Relinquishing his seat to Mrs. Strife, he paced. It was a thick silence, hard and dangerous.

"How do you know?"

Cloud hiccuped, frowning at his emotional display and wiping his face. "The same way I do everything else. I just do," he croaked. Ugh, his nose kept running! It was gross, okay? There was a hanky handed to him. "Thank you."

He hated being seven. He kept doing emotional _things_. It was _embarrassing_. "I just... You and The other one, with the dark hair-"

"Angeal."

"Angeal, right. You two need a lot more Mako shots before you start," he waved his hand. "Ya know, _stuff_. Trust me on this."

A tender hand scraped through his hair, petting his spikes. "Sweetheart, I..." His Mom was looking at him worriedly. "I think someone needs to tell me when we finish here just what is going on."

With a voice soft and gentle like that, he was nodding before he realized just what he did and groaned into his hands. "Moooooooooom..."

She smiled, a little strained, as she looked at Genesis. "I am Claudia Strife. This is my son Cloud Strife. This gentleman is Vincent Valentine, estranged father of Sephiroth. That was the original reason for coming here, so that we could have a credible source for young Sephiroth and convince him to at least speak with him. This... this seems to have changed our mission a bit." She gazed at her son with fond exasperation. "As it always seems with my son." 

Genesis hit the edge of his bed, face slack. "I think I realy do need backup now," he muttered. "This is..." 

For once, Genesis was speechless. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Muse woke up. I'm not complaining, but the plot bunnies need a new corral. Still, I'm trying to keep the timelines halfway realistic. Any help is appreciated.

_All I did was watch. I didn't even try to stop her. That was my sin. And this... this... is my punishment._ \- Vincent Valentine

 

Well, now that cat was out of the bag, it was time to tell his mother. After he figured something out. "What do you mean Sephiroth is younger than you!? Isn't he the general?"

The fact that the Wutai War wasn't even started yet - but soon, the treaty talks weren't working - and Shinra was just starting to really get into Mako. It...it really was a new world.

"I...I could stop Shinra from killing the Planet!"

His sudden exclamation had all heads whipping to him, the blond sightless to their reactions as he started pacing, trying to find out what was going on in his time line. Hand patting his heart, he felt something there glow warmly - not unlike a Materia powering up. "I mean, right now, they're not even really polluting the Lifestream, they don't have enough of a hold on it. And Jenova is probably still in the Crater and taking that psycho bitch out would be relatively easy, a Firaga or Thundara would be best. Maybe." Stopping, he looked to the top of the tent, tilting his head. "Then again, does Hojo have enough S-Cells for Sephiroth if I do that? I mean, with the parasite gone, he shouldn't go six shades of insane for 'Mother' especially since I am going to make sure none of the papers at the Manor are viable..."

Coming out of his induced state of contemplation, he blinked at the pale, worried, and generally startled faces. "What?"

Momma Strife knelt to wrap her arms around his little shoulders, hands coming to his face moments later as she tried to understand her baby boy.

"You..." Genesis started before stopping, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. "There is nothing in _Loveless_ that can handle this."

Vincent sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

It was going to be a doozy of an explanation...

0Oo*oO0

It took three days to properly lay out what Cloud had been through - mainly because he was terrified what his mother would do. Being wrapped in her arms at the whispered confession when he finally realized that he had fallen back on his terrible habit of speaking aloud had been comforting. A grown man being cradled by his mother was odd despite his physically younger form, yet he didn't really _care_ anymore. He had lost a lot to Hojo, the Planet, to _Time_ and life. He figured stealing little bit back would help him overcome some of those living nightmares he still woke up remembering.

"So, now you know."

Vincent snorted delicately, leaning into the shadows.

Genesis was white, shaking in his chair and head bowed, hands in his hair. That was a...lot to take in. But this child just knew so much - too much to be a hoax.

Momma on the other hand, she was crying quietly, pressing soft, tender kisses into her son's hair. And she vowed darkly to make sure that anyone hurting her baby or even _thinking about it_ would suffer more than he had. She was going to make sure of it, come hell or high water! 


End file.
